Tania's Words

here is an empty shell- a resonant shadow- waiting

Archive for having children

On Postpardum Depression

You might have noticed that I’ve been absent for a while.  It started with my pregnancy; morning sickness wrecks havoc on the best laid plans, always. Then I had my son and was understandably tired.

But it’s more than that.

When my first son was born, I felt the most incredible rush of emotions. It’s hard to describe, the sense that suddenly everything is right. That you are exactly where you need to be. To understand finally, the depth and width of capacity for love that a human can experience.  The moment I heard Parker cry for the first time was the most profound experience of my life.

I worried constantly through my second pregnancy. How would I be able to love another person the way I loved Parker? Was I capable? I wondered if it would feel like dividing my love and grieved the idea that I might have to give up even an ounce of love I felt for Parker.  But I was reassured by other mothers. My best friend described it by explaining that it wasn’t about dividing your heart. Instead, she said, it felt like you grew a whole new heart for each child.

That sounded amazing.  I was signed up, I bought into it, I’d drunk the Kool-Aid.

Instead, the moment I heard Lucas crying I thought, I’m tired.

I tried to breast feed and felt nothing but crippling anxiety.

Our first day home from the hospital I stood, petrified in our family room, crying. Trying to assure my very worried husband that I was okay, but something was wrong. I was wrong. Everything felt off.

Where was that rush of love, that incredible feeling? That instant bond and the knowledge that this was what I was meant to do, who I was meant to be. Having Parker felt like finally finding my calling, motherhood fitting over me like a second skin. Only with Lucas it was like the skin was torn and shrunken, it’s warped weave making me vulnerable. And empty.

It’s been 9 months since I’ve had Lucas and for the first time, this week I was able to say, I have Postpardum Depression.

So I hope you don’t mind, because that is what this blog is going to be about for the time being.  Because we hear about it, we know about it. Moms say they’ve had it, but the reality of this kind of depression is like a dirty little secret. And no one wants to be the woman to admit, I feel nothing for my children. I know I love them, deep inside, somewhere I can’t feel it.  What kind of mother feels that way?

This one.